The Filigree Ball: Being a full and true account of the solution of the mystery concerning the Jeffrey-Moore affairGreen, Anna Katharine
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The Filigree Ball: Being a full and true account of the solution of the mystery concerning the Jeffrey-Moore affair
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories
For Jinny’s one weakness is her lack of power to hide the satisfaction
she takes in any detective work that comes her way. I had told her of
this and had more than once tried to impress upon her that her smile
was a complete give-away, but I noticed that if she kept it from her
lips, it forced its way out of her eyes, and if she kept it out of her
eyes, it beamed like an inner radiance from her whole face. So I gave
up the task of making her perfect and let her go on smiling, glad that
she had such frequent cause for it.
This morning her smile had a touch of pride in it as well as of
delight, and noting this, I remarked:
“You have made Loretta talk.”
Her head went up and a demure dimple appeared in her cheek.
“What did she say?” I urged. “What has she been keeping back?”
“You will have to ask the coroner. My orders were strict to bring the
results of my interview immediately to him.”
“Does that include Durbin?”
“Does it include you?”
“I am afraid not.”
“You are right; but why shouldn’t it include you?”
“What do you mean, Jinny?”
“Why do you keep your own counsel so long? You have ideas about this
crime, I know. Why not mention them?”
“Jinny!”
“A word to the wise is sufficient;” she laughed and turned her pretty
face toward the coroner’s once. But she was a woman and could not help
glancing back, and, meeting my dubious look, she broke into an arch
smile and naively added this remark: “Loretta is a busybody ashamed of
her own curiosity. So much there can be no harm in telling you. When
one’s knowledge has been gained by lingering behind doors and peeping
through cracks, one is not so ready to say what one has seen and heard.
Loretta is in that box, and being more than a little scared of the
police, was glad to let her anxiety and her fears overflow into a
sympathizing ear. Won’t she be surprised when she is called up some
fine day by the coroner! I wonder if she will blame _me_ for it?”
“She will never think of doing so,” I basely assured my little friend,
with an appreciative glance at her sparkling eye and dimpled cheek.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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